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My eyes remained open and my vision intact as Father Dane reached for a bowl of oil and doused his hardening cock with the blessed liquid. I knew he was about to purge me of all sins as he coated my wicked insides with the purity of his godly member.

For the first time in my life, I prayed to God. Truly prayed. “Please. Please. Allow me to die before he fucks me. Help me to die before I have to feel his holy dick. Take my final breath before he fucks—”

My prayers went unanswered.

Because I was a sinner.

His slick cock jammed into my cunt with no resistance.

Because I was a sinner.

Father Dane thrusted in and out of my dying body, groaning as my pussy gripped around him.

Because I was a sinner.

The sounds of his balls slapping against my spread lips echoed off the sacred walls.

Because I was a sinner.

The statue of Jesus Christ stared down upon my used, bloody, wilting body being fucked by a priest.

Because I was a sinner.

I took my final breath with the cock of a priest inside of me.

Because I was a sinner.

The grave a sign of hope that promises resurrection

even as it claims our mortal bodies.

I woke up in my old bed I had shared with William, my old room, alone. I was clean and in fresh clothes—a t-shirt and panties which were always my go to sleeping attire before the world became infested with scratchers. Before The Itch.

Where was The Church? Where was Father Dane? Where was Lettie?

Lettie was dead. Gone.

I was dead. Gone.

Why were we not together?

Fresh tears filled my eyes at the thought. I had lost William. I had lost Lettie. How much pain could one person endure in a lifetime? And now I was in my old room all alone. Was the other side a place for me to spend all eternity alone? Was I even dead? Maybe this was a fucked up mental breakdown, and I was still tied to an alter at The Church with Father Dane’s oiled penis inside of me. Maybe I was just too fucked up in the head to know it.

I sat up having no sense of time. I wondered how long I had been unconscious. Hours? Days? Where was Father Dane? Standing up and grimacing when my feet hit the floor, it dawned on me that I didn’t have the bloody cross on my chest. Looking down at my t-shirt with not a drop of blood, I realized I wasn’t injured in the slightest. Where was my stab wound? Walking over to the doorway, I opened it and stared into a bright light. Something about the light prevented me from crossing the threshold any further.

“Father Dane? Are you there?”

I waited. Silence.

“Lettie?” I walked over to the window and stared out into an equally bright light. I couldn’t see past the white.

“Can anyone hear me?”

Squinting against the harsh light, I waited.

The door to my room slid open before I could call out to someone—anyone—again. Standing before me was William. Normal. Void of any sign of scratcher through his large frame. No bloody scratches. No monster. Just my William with his pale skin, his blue eyes, and his perfect smile.

I burst into tears. “William,” I cried. “Is that really you?”

Was William my other side? Was he an angel in charge of leading this sinner to the other side?

To my surprise, William took me in his arms and held me close. He held me while I sobbed, stroked my back while my body shook with relief mixed with confusion. He kissed the top of my head as I apologized over and over again for what I had to do to him. Apologized for killing him with a shard of glass.

Never once did he speak. But never once did he stop showing me love, kindness, and comfort. William. It was William who blanketed me in his white when I feared the black wanted to blanket me completely.

I’m not sure how long I cried against his chest, but eventually William pulled me back so he could look me in the eyes. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. I could see his pain. I could see his entire soul crumbling to pieces inside.

Stroking his pale face with my pale palms, I whispered, “Are you all right?” My white on his white, my pain touching his. Light shining in from the window brighter than any form of light I had ever seen before.

He nodded. “I will be.” Taking me by the hand, he led me back to the bed. “You need to rest. You’ve been through an awful ordeal.”

I shook my head. “No. I want to stay with you.” The thought of being alone and without him for another second sent a panic through me. I never wanted to be alone again. Not even in sleep.